


In the Lonely Hour

by modern_mage



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modern_mage/pseuds/modern_mage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric has always been one to use his words. As a world class storyteller, he's known for it. But when it comes to a certain best friend, he has never truly been able to express his feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Lonely Hour

Varric knew he should have said something after the Chantry explosion. He should have said something after Hawke told Anders to leave in a wavering voice. He should have said something after she collapsed that night from exhaustion, fear, and heartbreak. 

He laughed in spite of himself. He never had trouble with words, except when he thought about confessing his feelings to her. Hawke had meant so much to him for so long. There were so few good people in the world, and she was one of them. Yet, somehow that kindness was thrown in her face as she watched everything crumble around her. It was all too poetic. 

Varric looked around the Herald’s Rest from his place in front of the fire. He saw the Chargers drinking with Bull, Sera laughing as the bard began to play her song, and tired soldiers unwinding for the day. 

It hit all too close to home. If this were Kirkwall, if this was the Hanged Man, it would be Hawke, him, and their friends having a good time. Tired guards would finally be getting a break from Aveline. He wouldn’t feel alone in a crowded room. 

His group of friends, his family, had grown apart after that one night in Kirkwall. Anders had no choice but to run from his crimes. Hawke could barely even stand to look at him after the explosion. She had placed her trust in someone who claimed to love her, and he betrayed her, plain and simple. 

Sebastian, of course, had returned to Starkhaven, vowing to find Anders and get revenge on the Grand Cleric’s murderer. Varric might have been able to forgive Sebastian for abandoning Hawke when she needed all of the friends she could get, but invading Kirkwall, the place that Hawke had fought for so long to protect, was crossing a line. 

Isabella had said her farewells after the battle and had decided to return to the Raiders. He received letters from her now and again, but it just wasn’t the same. Rivani kept things interesting, and despite some of her questionable actions, she had a heart of gold. 

Aveline had stayed behind in Kirkwall. Someone had to rebuild the city and maintain order. Varric had tried, but he really couldn’t blame her for staying. Aveline had determination and a sense of duty unlike no other. If anyone could put that city back together, it would be her. 

Merrill had been a sweetheart, wiping away Hawke’s tears and whispering comforting Elven words in her ear. She had stayed with them a while, and she was largely one of the reasons why Hawke was able to recover from such a horrific night. But in her heart, Merrill knew that she had to help the elves in some way, so she had returned to Kirkwall to look after the city elves left homeless by the fighting. Hawke had understood. 

Fenris, broody but loveable, had stayed loyal to Hawke until his last breath. He had died in the fighting, defending a cause that was not even his own. Hawke had that effect on people. She inspired loyalty and courage in the face of darkness. 

Before Varric had even fully comprehended what had happened, it was just him and Hawke. It was almost as if it was like the beginning, before everyone else had come along and before the Deep Roads Expedition. Aveline was too busy working to be with them. The only difference was that Carver wasn’t with them. He had died in the Deep Roads; his story ending before it ever really had a chance to begin.

Hawke recovered from the loss of nearly everything she loved, becoming like she was before the Chantry and any hope of peace had been destroyed. Hawke was resilient, and Varric loved her even more for it. 

It had been a mistake to return to Kirkwall for a visit. They hadn’t known that the Seeker would be there, trying to find out the truth about the start of the mage rebellion. Varric had given Hawke just enough time to escape by telling their story, stretching it out and adding as many little details as possible. Surprisingly, Cassandra had hung onto every word. 

He didn’t see Hawke again until he asked her to come to Skyhold to help the Inquisition. They had sent letters and stayed in contact, but after nearly a decade of friendship, it was so hard not seeing her beautiful face everyday. When she arrived at Skyhold, it had taken everything in the dwarf not to run into her arms and embrace her. He couldn’t risk their friendship, not now, not ever. There was no one in the world that meant as much to him as Marian Hawke did. Losing her would be unbearable. 

When Hawke didn’t return from the Fade, Varric felt as if his world was collapsing all around him. Was this how Hawke felt after that one night in Kirkwall? He should have said something before she left and told her how much she really meant to him. He should have said something to the Inquisitor, telling her how much it would mean to him if Hawke returned safely. He was known for being great with words, so how had he managed not to use them when they mattered most? 

Instead, he used his words to write letters. Maker, he had to write so many letters, each of them saying the same thing. _The Champion is dead. Hawke is dead_. Of course, he had said more. He had made her death sound heroic, tragic, and beautiful. 

But when is death ever beautiful? 

Varric stood up stiffly from his chair in front of the fireplace and told Cabot to put his drinks on his tab. He had had more than he should have that night, but what else is a man to do when he can barely think of a reason to keep on living?

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic was inspired by Ed Sheeran's song "One." 
> 
> The title of the fanfic is the name of Sam Smith's debut album and one of the songs on it. 
> 
> This is the result of writing something at one in the morning while sleep deprived (not the best idea in all honestly)


End file.
